by Jamilia Fair
Then she said te amo, then she put her hand around me waist.
I told her no.
She cried te amo, told her I'm not gonna run away, but let me go.
My soul is awry, without asking why. I said te amo.
Wish somebody'd tell me what she said.
Don't it mean I love you?
Think it means I love you.
Don't it mean I love you?
After the water ran cold, I finally forced myself out of the shower. Grabbing a towel from the towel rack, I wrap myself, and my hair, in one, and walk out into my bedroom. Crossing my room to my dresser, I pick up my bottle of Sweet Pea lotion from Bath & Body Works and walk over to my bed and sit down. I quickly dry myself off before applying lotion from head to toe, quite literally. I love the smell of Sweet Pea. Once I was sure I had on enough lotion, you know black men and women get ashy quickly and it shows, I pull on my robe, then head back into the bathroom to blow dry my hair. Now, if there is one thing I had to say I loved about myself, it would be my hair. It's thick, very dark and naturally curly. Thank you, dad. He's always had a head full of curly black hair thanks to his African mother and Creole father. My hair, when straightened, stops just at the top of my breasts, but when wet, it stops just below my ears.
Once I was positive all my hair was dry, I quickly grease my scalp with argan oil lotion, spray my curls with a bit of the argan oil oil sheen, then brush my thick curls into a ponytail. Almost immediately after exiting the bathroom, I smell bacon and eggs in the air and I smile. Brooke was making good on fixing breakfast. Oh, how I love that woman.
At the sound of my stomach growling, I cross my room to the door, exit my room and eagerly make my way down to the kitchen. "Brooke, honey, you are a lifesaver. This stomach of mine will not shut up, growling at me." I laugh, entering the kitchen. "I hope you've made enough to feed an elephant," I joke.
"Holy, fuck," a familiar voice hisses.
I spin around to find Jeremiah standing next to the refrigerator, leaning back against the counter, staring at me. Well, his eyes are everywhere but my face, but I'm not complaining.
"Jer, what are you doing here?"
Once he finishes looking me over, his eyes finally meet mine. "Well, I came by to see if you wanted to have lunch with me at my place.” He then looks toward Brooke, who is standing over the stove, cooking. "But it looks like you're about to eat."
"Oh, no." Barb steps forward with a smile on her lips. "By all means, take her with you."
I glare at her. "By all means, shut up."
Her smile widens. "Look, the man wants to take you to lunch. Don't be rude and decline."
"I like her," Jeremiah says and I turn my glare on to him, but he just shrugs.
"I'm hungry," I spit.
"And he's going to feed you, as soon as you go back up those stairs and get dressed," Brooke adds suddenly.
"But I'm hungry now," I whine.
"Girl, if you don't take your ass up those stairs, I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and take you up there my-damn-self," Barb threatens.
I roll my eyes at her. "You're not tall enough to carry me over your shoulder, Minnie Barb."
She glares murderously at me. "Ha. Ha. Ha. Very fucking funny."
"Tabitha, just go with the man. I'll put you some leftovers in the oven," Brooke says.
I let out a dramatic sigh before throwing my arms up, dramatically. "Fine."
I turn around and head out of the kitchen. "Uh, not so fast, Ryan Reynolds," I hear Barb say. "We need to have a word with you."
I stood just inside the door, staring with wide eyes and a slacked jaw at how big and beautiful his house was. I've never seen such a beautiful house. As soon as you walk in, you're greeted by a foyer that would accommodate a grandfather clock at the foot of a vast curving staircase that probably went to space, polished wood floors and a graceful banister that curved up toward a soaring second floor. The cream-colored walls are lined with gold trimming and decorated with pictures of young children and many other adults. Off to my left hung a painting of gentlemen riding horses into dark woods.
"Tabitha?"
The sound of his voice startles me. "Y-yes?"
"Are you all right?" There's a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
I glare at him. "I'm fine," I say, pushing passed him and into a room that looks like the living room.
Again, I am met with a beautiful sight. White and red velvet drapes frame beautiful high arched windows, the lace inner curtains remained drawn, allowing daylight to enter while rendering the heart-stopping view of his gated yard. White furniture, a sofa and love seat, sat in the middle of the room with a red and white oval shaped wooden coffee table placed right in front of it. And on the wall, right across from the sofa, was a big flat screen, the biggest I've ever seen, mounted just above the fireplace. Off to my far left sat a bookcase neatly stocked with rows and rows of books, and family pictures lined the wall beside it. All in all, Jeremiah Keegan's house was beautiful.
"Wow," I gasp in awe.
I feel his arm circle my waist and pull me into his side. "What?" His lips are against my ear.
"Your house is beautiful."
I feel the vibrations of his deep chuckle against my ear. "I would love to take all the credit, but I can't. My mother helped a lot, and so did my brother’s wife, Amber."
"Well, they did a wonderful job."
"Yes, they did." He then reaches down and takes my hand. "Come on, I have a surprise for you." He smiles at me before guiding me out of his living room, down a hall where family pictures covered the walls, and into a stunning kitchen. I'm so in awe, and jealous, of his kitchen that I can't even think straight. All that comes to mind is marble covered island kitchen.
"Holy shit, I'm in love with your kitchen," I burst.
He chuckles as he guides me toward a table covered with a white tablecloth with two candles lit in the center and two plates with silver tops covering them. "I hope you like fish, spaghetti, and cornbread." He says before removing both the silver covers from the plate.
Instantly, my mouth waters at the sight of the food in front of me. "You cooked all this?"
He laughs. "Yes, I did. Don't sound so shocked," he says as he pulls out a chair for me and gestures for me to take a seat.
"Thank you." I take my seat and wait for him to sit down before speaking again. "I don't mean to sound so shocked, it's just, you never told me you could cook."
He smiles. "I wanted to surprise you," he says before I take my first bite of his spaghetti and oh my God, I was in heaven. "Oh my God. This is so freaking good!"
"I'm glad you like it."
I take a few more bites before looking up at him. "So, Chef Jeremiah, what else can you do?"
"Well, I can fly a plane and helicopter, speak and read in four different languages and I can fix almost anything," he says proudly. "I'm good with my hands."
I agree with the last one. "I can attest to that."
He gives me a look beneath hooded eyes and I force my knees together at the sudden ache between my thighs. Calm your hormones, woman! You did not come here to sleep with this man. Not yet, anyway.
"Watch yourself, Ms. Davenport. You don't want to start something you can't finish." His voice is low and thick with lust.
The corners of my mouth tilt up and I just stare at him. He truly was a very beautiful man. Piercing green eyes and a head full of dark curls made him look more exotic than the beautiful white man that he is.
"Are you mixed with anything, or are you full on white?" I ask bluntly.
He chuckles. "Where did that come from?"
I shrug. "I don't know. I was just sitting here and the thought just came to me."
He nods. "Both my parents are white, but my mother is white and Armenian."
"Well, that explains it," I say before taking a bite of my fish.
"Explains what?"
I finish chewing before answering him. "The exotic features I see in you."
&n
bsp; "What about you?" he questions. "You don't look as if you're fully black either."
"My mother is black and Indian, while my father is creole," I say with a smile. "My father and I look more alike than my mother and me."
"Really?"
I nod. "You'll be surprised at how alike we look."
After talking and eating for another fifteen minutes, I help him clean our dishes before he guides me into his living room towards a glass cabinet full of movies. "Why don't you pick out a movie while I go and get us some blankets," he says before kissing my cheek and disappearing down a hall.
As I search for a movie, I couldn't help but wonder how many other women he'd brought here before me. I mean, I know I'm not the first woman he's ever been with, but for some reason, a part of me is hoping that I am the first woman to ever see the inside of his home. Girl, get a grip. Have you really looked at that man? He can have any woman he wants. You know damn well you're not the first woman he's ever brought home. I frown at the voice in my head and just grab any movie before moving to sit on the couch.
I hadn't known Jeremiah had entered the living room until I felt his hand cup my cheek. "Tabitha? What's wrong?"
I stare into his eyes and they're full of worry, so I shake my head. "Nothing's wrong."
"I'm not buying it. Something’s wrong. You've been glaring at the floor since I walked in here."
I was glaring? "Oh. I didn't know I was making a face."
"Well, you were, so you might as well tell me what's bothering you."
I shake my head, again. "Nothing is bothering me. Even if there was something bothering me, I don't have the right to be bothered or upset." I push to my feet and cross the room to the DVD player. "So, let’s just drop it and watch a movie," I say while reaching up to open the DVD player.
His arms circle my middle, his hands flat against my stomach, and he pulls me against him. I try to pull away from him, but he only tightens his grip. "Tell me what's bothering you, or we'll stand like this the entire night."
"Jeremiah, it's nothing worth talking about."
"If we are going to try this, if we are going to give us a real shot, we must talk to each other." He rests his chin on my shoulder. "We have to tell the other person when something is bothering us."
I know he's right, of course he’s right, but I really don't want to get into this with him. I don't want to hear the answer, an answer to a question I already know, come out of his mouth because it will only make me want to know more. And, I really don't want to think about how many women he's walked through those same doors.
"Jer—"
"Tabitha, talk to me, please."
After a moment of silence, I turn around in his arms and gaze into his green eyes. "While I was picking out a movie, I couldn’t help but wonder about the women before me and how many of them have walked through those same doors."
Within a second, his hands are resting on the nape of my neck and he's pulling me closer until our foreheads are touching. "I really wish you weren't thinking about that tonight." His cool breath fanned my lips. "Besides family, you are the first and only woman I've ever walked through those doors."
I shake my head and draw back. "Jer, you don't have to say that to me just to make me feel better. I know you've dated women before me, which means I can't get mad at you having them over. They were before me."
"I'm not lying to you, Tabitha. You really are the only woman, besides family, that I've brought home."
I stare into his eyes and see nothing but truth. He didn't even blink as he spoke the words. "What about your last girlfriend? Surely, she's seen the inside of your home."
He shakes his head. "I have a condo on the other side of town. I've never brought a woman here, but you."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why have you never brought your past girlfriends here?"
He shrugs. "I never felt the need to or got that feeling like they should be here."
"And yet you bring me here. Why?"
He takes my hands in his and brings them to his lips. "Because the moment I kissed you, I knew I had to have you. I got this feeling that you would be the one to change my life for the better and I knew I had to do whatever it took to make you mine."
I can't help but smile. "Really? You got all that from a kiss?"
His lips pull up into a smile and he pulls me closer. "Yes, I did."
He leans in to kiss me, but I lift the movie up in between us.
"The Choice."
He draws back with a look of confusion. "What?"
"The Choice. It's a movie based on Nicholas Sparks’ best-selling novel The Choice." I turn around and quickly put the movie in. "It's said to be one of his best movies yet."
"It's a chick-flick, isn't it?"
I turn around and kiss his lips. "It's a story about a love strong enough that it can survive even the worst of things." I move past him and take my seat on the couch, but not before removing my shoes. "Well, are you going to join me, or stand there gawking at me?"
He doesn't say anything, he just crosses the room and takes a seat beside me. "You have a lot of fire in you, you know that?" he questions as he wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into him.
I crane my neck to kiss his cheek, then rest my head on his shoulder. "Yes, I am very much aware of that."
I feel his lips on my hair. "Good. Don't ever let it go out, not even a little bit."
The next morning, when I get to work, I run into Jessica. She's dressed in this skimpy outfit that shows a little too much skin. She looks like she's just come from one of Lil' Wayne’s music videos. I don't understand how some women can just walk out of the house dressed like that and call it getting dressed. Jessica is a beautiful woman, I'm not blind to that fact, but her attitude makes her very unattractive. After only meeting her once, I already don’t like her.
"Hey, Tabitha," she says in a fake, and over the top, cheerful voice.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. "Hey, Jessica."
"How are you on this beautiful morning?"
I eye her for a moment before turning around and making my way towards my desk. "Rested. You?"
She falls into step beside me. "I'm great. I'm just here to see your man. Is he up there?" she questions.
I drop my bag onto my desk before turning to meet her gaze. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you need to see Jeremiah?"
She smiles. "He's my best friend and I just want to catch up."
This time, I do roll my eyes. "Well, he's busy in a meeting."
She shrugs. "I'll wait then."
My irritation toward her is seriously growing to an all-time high. "Don't you have a job or something?" I blurt.
Her eye twitches. "Yes, but I'm off today."
"You don't have any hobbies, other than riding the elevator to see Jer?" I take my seat in my chair and turn on my computer.
"You know what, I am getting sick and tired of your snide comments." No longer is her voice overly cheery, but low and hissing.
I look up at her and smile. "Well, if you don't like what I have to say, I highly suggest you move the hell around."
She glares down at me with hatred in her eyes. "Listen here, you black bitch. I highly suggest you not get comfortable with Jay because he's going to toss your ass aside like yesterday’s garbage soon enough." She lowers her voice so that no one else can hear her. "He never keeps a woman around longer than six months. So, why don't you do yourself a favor and just walk the hell away."
I don't know what came over me, but the next thing I know, my fingers are wrapped around her throat, she is on her knees and the side of her face is pressed down against my desk with my lips hovering above her ear. "If you ever call me out of my name, if I ever hear the words black bitch come out of your mouth again, not even the best surgeon in the world will be able to put the pieces of your face back together." I tighten my fingers around her neck. "Do you understand me?"
She nods. "
Y-yes."
I release her and push to my feet as she stumbles to her own. "About what you said about me doing myself a favor and just walking away, it's not going to happen. After our date last night at his place," I watch her eyes widen and her lips part, "I highly doubt he's going to let me go anytime soon, or at all. So, you should do yourself a favor and get used to seeing me around for a very long time."
She swallows, then squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. "Oh, so he took you to his condo?"
I smile and shake my head. "No. He took me to his house, the one on Martin Luther King St."
"Oh."
"Yeah, oh." Satisfied, I take my seat again. "Now, I have work to do, so you need to leave."
She scoffs, then turns to leave.
"Oh, and Jess? Keep this between us, will you? I'd hate to have to tell Jer that his best friend is a rude and obnoxious bitch who thinks I should walk away from him," I throw at her. "I don't think that will sit too well with him."
Jeremiah
Past
(12)
"Here you are, sweetie," Janice says, placing a cup of coffee down in front of me.
"Thank you, Janice."
"You're welcome." She pats my shoulder. "So, how are things with you and my daughter?"
"I thought you promised Tabitha you wouldn't pry into her personal life."
She cocks her head to the side. "I said no such thing. I promised her that I would try not to meddle in her private life. Try being the operative word."